


Princess Grace

by pene



Category: Glee
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Alternate Universe, M/M, Spies & Secret Agents, on a boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pene/pseuds/pene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine on a boat in 24 hundred word drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princess Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I always knew exactly what was going on here ;)

 

**Anniversary**

The horizon is rose-gold, lit from beneath. Princess Grace’s perfectly-tuned engine hums under Kurt’s feet. The sea unfurls before them.

The radio hisses. “Morning, sailor.”

“Mercedes.”

“We’re nearby if you want company.” His position’s on their shared GPS.

Kurt looks at the sky. “I’m okay.” He loves Mercedes and Sam, but it was always Kurt, his dad and the Princess. He’ll see this day through alone.

A shape emerges on the starboard bow - a man, face down. Kurt draws close, lets the engine idle to haul the stranger aboard. He’s waterlogged. But his suit is immaculate. And he’s alive.

 

**Broadway**

The guy has no visible injuries. Kurt lays him on the bed to check. This isn’t about eyelashes or arms or flawless skin. He’s responsible for his passenger. The Princess is a small vessel. There’s nowhere else to put a fortunately-not-drowned man.

The guy’s eyes open. Their tawny gold is breathtaking.

Kurt draws away. “Hi.”

“You rescued me.”

“Yes.”

The guy smiles - sincere and classic Broadway at once. “Thank you.” He looks around Kurt’s quarters. “I like what you’ve done here.”

Kurt’s heart lurches treacherously. He once pulled another man out of the sea. This one is more dangerous.

 

**Competition**

He tells Kurt his name’s Blaine. He doesn’t know who left him in the ocean for dead.

It’s sunset. Kurt’s sluicing the deck. Blaine steps onto it dressed in Kurt’s clothes. The saltwater steams against the warm wood.

“You’ve got Vogue back issues!”

“I interned there.” Kurt frowns. “Blaine. You went through my stuff.”

“I’m sorry. I need to know I’m safe here.”

Kurt meets Blaine’s gaze for a too-long moment. “You’re safe.”

They make it a game, stretched out under the shade-cloth making Vogue cover references. Kurt could win easily but he’s distracted by Blaine’s fingers against his ankle.

 

**Day**

They’ll anchor overnight. Blaine draws behind Kurt at the helm, places a too-sure hand against Kurt’s back. It prickles under Kurt’s skin.

“You need to stop.”

“Stop?”

“I’ve known you one day. You turn up, looking the way you do, half-drowned in a ten-thousand-dollar suit– Touching me”

“Oh.” Blaine draws back.

“I don’t know if anything you’ve told me is true.”

“Most of it is.”

Kurt nods, stiffly.

Blaine’s sincere. Intent. “Kurt. I need to keep you safe too.”

That ship has long-since sailed.

Kurt looks up. The stars are out. “I expect one of us should keep watch.”

 

**Escape**

Kurt used to sleep in the narrow bed that folds from the ceiling. Now he lies in his father’s bed, halfway between wake and sleep. Above deck, Blaine starts to sing. Kurt doesn’t know the song but somehow he’s known Blaine’s voice forever.

Kurt climbs the ladder. The ocean is calm, silvery as it reflects thousands on thousands of stars.

The deck creaks. The song stops.

In the quiet, “Hey.” Kurt’s voice travels. Blaine stands, watches him approach. His eyes say everything.

Kurt kisses him. He draws back. But Blaine presses forward. He kisses Kurt as though Kurt’s an escape.

 

**Fan**

Blaine’s hands fan around Kurt’s waist and draw him in. Kurt goes easily. He thought he’d given up on desire. Now he’s reckless with it. Sweet mouth, firm chest, soft belly—there’s no space for thought.

The sea rises and falls beneath the boat as they tumble gracelessly below deck.

Laid out beneath Kurt in the almost-dark, Blaine’s eyes turn sightless with pleasure. He cries aloud—mixed appeal and relief. Kurt lets out a sob. Brightness twists down his spine and shudders in his limbs.

The boat’s seen a lifetime before this. No-one else is watching. Kurt sinks into Blaine.

 

**Guide**

Moments after dawn, Kurt’s above deck. He takes in the span of ocean, the gold horizon. The deck is steady underfoot.

He heads downstairs to Blaine, leaving the hatch open. Sunlight slides across the bed. It pools on Blaine’s sleep-warm thighs. Kurt traces them with his fingers, welcomed, guided by coarse hair and the faint blue line of veins. Blaine’s breathing catches. He tugs Kurt close.

Later, at the controls, the radio flickers noiselessly. Kurt turns it up.

“Mercedes! Hey, gorgeous.”

“Thank God! We’ve been worried sick. Kurt, your GPS is offline.”

Kurt checks the transmitter. His stomach drops.

_Blaine._

 

**Hope**

Blaine’s in the doorway. “I’m so sorry.” Until he spoke, Kurt still hoped this was a misunderstanding.

An hour ago Blaine was open-mouthed against Kurt’s skin - hot and reverent. Kurt let himself contemplate a future. He’s a fool, blindly trusting a beautiful stranger. Everything about Blaine is fabrication.

He’s no less enticing for that.

Kurt turns away. He weighs anchor, starts the engine. The waystation’s six hours in clear seas.

Blaine touches Kurt’s arm, draws close. “It wasn’t safe.”

“Don’t touch me.” Kurt swings about. “I’m the captain of this boat. You don’t make decisions about keeping her safe.”

 

**Indecent**

Kurt dresses quickly with the engine idling and the hatch closed. He wants to keep moving, but last night’s memories are visceral and indecent. He can’t concentrate half-dressed.

The boat’s not tiny. Kurt and his dad moved around her with ease born of years at sea. But Blaine’s different. Kurt feels him everywhere. He crowds Kurt in.

“Tell me where we’re headed?” Blaine asks as Kurt reappears.

“To meet my friend Mercedes’ boat.” He doesn’t mention Sam.

Blaine eyes him carefully.

“If you have other plans you’ll need to get me overboard.” Kurt lifts his chin.

“I’d never do that.”

 

**Jumble**

As they approach Mercedes’ boat, Kurt meets Blaine’s gaze. “I’d trust this woman with my life.”

They secure the Princess to Mercedes’ Lady Pride.

“Sugar, Kurt’s here!” Mercedes calls as they’re done. “With a friend.” She tilts her head questioningly toward Blaine.

Before Kurt answers, Sam appears from below, as gloriously shirtless as ever. Blaine’s attention’s captured. Damn Sam, and his preposterous body.

“Sam,” Blaine gasps.

Sam leaps the guard rail, bowls into Blaine. They tumble into a jumble of limbs.

Mercedes considers them. She steps on board. pets Kurt’s shoulder. “Boo. Did you rescue another guy from the sea?”

 

**Kink**

“God. Sam. I thought you were dead.”

“Nah.” Sam pinches Blaine’s arm, hard.

“Ow!”

“Could a ghost do that?”

Blaine’s giggle is half sob.

Kurt rubs at a kink in his neck. The daylight’s softening, the sea’s blue muted.

“We should anchor.”

Mercedes nods. “We’ll share dinner.”

Everything’s done, boats set for the night. Mercedes sits between Sam’s legs. He wraps his arms around her. Kurt aches with the ease between them.

He leans against the cabin, catches Blaine’s gaze. The night’s warm. The air’s charged.

Kurt looks away. “You want to stay on board, you two should start talking.”

 

**Legend**

“Anything we say jeopardizes you.” Blaine doesn’t look up. “That matters to me.”

“You’re on my boat. You were in my bed. I’m in danger. Mercedes too.”

“We wanted to help people.”

“We wanted to be heroes.” Sam looks old.

“So spies? Bond?” Kurt should’ve suspected when he hauled Sam from the waves. “For whom?”

“I told myself we were the good guys—Sam saw the dark side before I did.”

Sam shrugs “I’ve read stuff. You’re their golden child. They shielded you.”

“Not anymore.”

A splash. The boat dips. A woman lifts herself from the water. “No. Not anymore.”

 

**Moon**

“Santana.” Blaine straightens. He’s brave and lovely in the silver light. It tugs at Kurt’s heart.

Sam steps quietly in front of Mercedes.

“In the immaculate flesh.”

Santana’s handgun holds steady. She shakes out her hair. She’s admittedly fabulous in a wetsuit. “I’m almost sorry to kill you, B. It’s sweet, gays orbiting one another. Pointless, but sweet.”

“You’ve been listening.” Blaine’s gaze doesn’t shift but his attention is on Kurt.

She shrugs unapologetically. “Microdermal chip. Don’t worry where.” She mouths, “Wanky.”

She pauses.

“Best get it over with.” She releases the safety. Kurt moves, drawn toward Blaine like gravity.

 

**Number**

Santana shoots. Blaine dives toward Kurt. The bullet lodges harmlessly in the deck.

Before anyone moves, a third boat roars in. Shots spatter against water and wood.

Santana looks between Kurt and Mercedes. “Sorry dolls, I was only after Blaine. Maybe Trouty-Mouth. He’s not as brainless as he looks.” She sighs. “Schuester will take all of you. Your number’s up.”

Blaine presses close. “Kurt. I need to tell you-“

“No.” Kurt knows that look. “You’re not telling me anything.”

“I can’t lose you without-“

Kurt’s not dying today. “I’ll listen to whatever you want to say when this is over.”

 

**Ocean**

“I’m disappointed, boys. You’re my own recruits.” Despite the overlarge firearm and attractive hench-twins, the guy’s more schoolteacher than spy. Kurt’s disillusioned by his sweater-vest.

“You said we’d help people.”

“And you did, Blaine.” Schuester sighs as though speaking to a wayward child.

Blaine’s answering eye-roll is epic in its sass. It offers Kurt a knife-edged kind of hope. Without looking, he skims over the controls, flicks switches. The anchor clangs against the seafloor.

Mercedes glances at Kurt, attentive. Beside him, Blaine’s muscles are poised for action. Kurt knows his boat, knows the ocean beneath her. He holds his nerve.

 

**Passion**

The anchor clanks under the hull.

“What’s that?” Schue leans over the bow on abysmal sea legs.

It’s time.

The motor starts first try. Kurt rams the throttle forward. The tie-lines catch between the boats. The Princess lurches backwards. Schue reels, then topples into the sea.

One hench-twin gets off a shot before Blaine takes her down. The boy follows her overboard.

“I’m so sorry, Mercedes!” Lady Pride’s cleats rip. They all hurtle away.

“Don’t apologize, boo. I’m passionate about other things: Being alive. Sam.”

Across the deck, Kurt meets Blaine’s searching gaze. Blaine inhales.

“God. _Kurt_. You’ve been shot.”

 

**Question**

“Oh,” says Kurt and sits down. The world’s the wrong kind of floating.

Blaine’s close, handsome as ever. He presses a hand against Kurt’s ribs.

“Ow.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Mercedes, take over.”

That’s good. Mercedes has the Princess.

Kurt whimpers as Blaine wraps his arms around him. His eyes scour Kurt as though there’s a question. Kurt’s answer is always going to be yes.

“I’ll help lift him.” That’s Sam.

Blaine nods roughly. Kurt tries to tell him everything’s okay.

“Hush, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

“You do realize I’m still here?”

Santana.

Blaine snarls. “You can wait.”

 

**Regret**

Kurt opens his eyes to darkness, his bed, the engine’s drone, a dear hand in his. Kurt holds on and spills back into broken sleep.

*

Voices: hushed and intent.

“I’ve done everything I can; he needs help.”

“Mercedes is on it.”

“It’s agony. I wish—”

“No-one can stop bullets.”

“I wish he’d never rescued me.”

*

The pain is blinding white. It snatches Kurt’s breath.

“Almost there, sweetheart. Hold on for me.”

*

Kurt wakes in a hospital room.

“Make it a habit to get shot, Mr. Hummel?”

“Where’s the Princess?” he asks. He means Where is Blaine?

 

**Shift**

"Princess? No visitors in recovery. But your husband’s been here the whole time.”

Kurt’s heart eases. “Could I have my clothes?” The post-surgical-style shift he’s wearing is immensely unflattering.

Blaine’s perched on a plastic chair –hands twisted in lap, tired eyes on the door. He lights to see Kurt. Kurt has no idea how this man could be a spy. He’s transparent.

“Oh God. _Kurt_.” He hugs Kurt carefully. “You’re okay.”

Kurt breathes against his hair. “I seem to have gained a husband.”

“They wouldn’t let me in. Santana has her uses. I’m sorry.”

“I think we should date first.”

 

**Time**

The Princess is dazzling; the water bright behind her.

“Captain on deck.” Mercedes kisses Kurt’s cheek. Sam shakes his hand. Kurt swipes at uninvited tears.

“Schue?” he asks, once aboard and alone with Blaine.

“Done. Santana recorded everything. We’ve got copies in safe places.”

“Santana helped?”

“She’s in love.” Blaine meets Kurt’s eyes. “That changes things.”

Kurt turns the wheel seaward. He’s growing accustomed to pain in his side at every move. He won’t ever be accustomed to Blaine. He takes Kurt’s breath.

“Where shall we go?” Kurt asks. They have a restocked galley, ocean on all sides, and time.

 

**Underneath**

They anchor as the sun settles, spilling red-gold from the horizon. Blaine’s on deck. His shirt’s unbuttoned. He’s lovely underneath his clothes, muscled and soft-bellied. A scar marks his chest. Kurt wants to know everything, wants to breathe him forever.

Kurt’s shutting down for evening. Rachel’s signal crackles through. “A ship in harbor is safe.”

Kurt answers, low, “But that’s not what ships are for.”

“So glad you’re okay,” she says.

Sheldon’s voice. “Me too, punkin. You did good.”

They send particulars. There’s days before the meet, time to explain everything. No more secrets. For tonight, Kurt has other priorities.

 

**Vow**

On deck, Blaine holds out a hand. “Come here.” His eyes catch the last bright sunlight. Kurt kisses him, presses close with faltering heart and humming skin.

Halfway down to his quarters, Kurt turns back. He needs to tell Blaine the truth before they’re twined and naked and his body promises a forever Blaine can’t accept.

He’s looking at Blaine’s bare knees. Even his bones are beautiful. Kurt’s already adrift here. “I need to say—”

Blaine steps down. “I know. I figured it out.” His expression is unreadable but he doesn’t move away. “I’m good at my craft, Kurt.”

 

**Wish**

“Please, Blaine. Stay.” The wood-panelling’s close in the lamplight.

“Why would I go? We’ve both had secrets.”

Blaine draws Kurt onto the bed. His eyes are full, his hands sure. Kurt bites his lip at the sweetness and tastes blood. As Blaine pushes inside, he forgets the whole world.

They talk in the times between, wanting to hear everything, eyes warm, never losing contact.

“…recruited from Dalton.”

“… called on when they needed someone local.”

“… investigating Sam’s disappearance but they found me.”

“Dad wanted to make things better.”

“I wish I’d met him.”

“Thank God I saw you.”

“Yes.”

 

**Yesterday**

They’re side-by-side on their backs, the canopy of space spread above them. Blaine’s quiet.

Kurt’s learning to read him. “Tell me.”

Blaine considers Kurt through long-lashed eyes. “I love you.”

Yesterday, Kurt didn’t know Blaine’s coffee order. Before that they were adversaries. It’s ridiculous.

He doesn’t say that.

“I love you, too.”

The radio hisses. Kurt goes to check in.

“Punkin.” Beiste is soft-voiced. “We got intelligence about your father’s final mission.”

Kurt doesn’t breathe.

“You ready to suit up?”

Outside, the stars have barely moved.

“I have an assignment,” Kurt says. “Come with me?”

Blaine lifts his head. “Always.”

 

**End**


End file.
